


The Off-Season

by daughterofalderaan



Category: Ted Lasso (TV)
Genre: Gen, ben wyatt voice It's about the melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofalderaan/pseuds/daughterofalderaan
Summary: His goals had always involved nets; her best friend was always supposed to be in her life; his son was always supposed to grow up in the same house as him.The grown-ups coming to terms with their post-season one realties, with their favorite youngins by their sides.
Relationships: Rebecca Welton & Nora, Roy Kent & Phoebe, Ted Lasso & Henry Lasso
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	The Off-Season

### Roy

He and Phoebe are on his sister’s bed. His sister is downstairs, doing the hoovering and dusting. Phoebe’s allergies make it difficult for her to be around all that unsettled dust, and Phoebe’s room does not have a TV, so here they are. She has a pile of dolls resting in her lap.

They agree that _Barbie: The Princess & The Popstar_ is a terrible retelling of _Barbie as The Princess & the Pauper_ and shut it off mid-way. He asks if it is okay, and puts on the end of the women’s Chelsea vs. Reading match. Phoebe’s attention is not all there, but she watches along without complaint.

In the final seconds, the Chelsea striker snakes across the pitch with astonishing precision, and shoots her shot. The Reading keeper lunges like an acrobat, but her fingertips do not even brush the ball.

Time is up. It is the winning point. They are first in the league. 

The striker sinks to her knees, unable to hold the breadth of the victory on her own two feet any longer. 

Her teammates charge towards her, piling on, her limbs amid the chaos of the human jungle gym.

He knows the sensation she is experiencing. He is never going to feel it again. 

His face screws up, muscle by muscle. All the things that have been knocking against his cranium lately start to spill out.

He senses Phoebe looking up at his face and staring at it. He likes, in general, how open she is, but this is close to unbearable.

He does not want her, or anyone, to see him like this. But for her, he refuses to perpetuate the idea that a grown man cannot cry. 

It comes out, in the sound of a light sob, before any tears fall.

“Uncle Roy?”

He makes himself look back at her. She deserves as much.

She is puzzled. “Why are you sad? Or are you just really happy?”

“No, I’m sad.”

“Why?”

His voice comes out choked and gruff and wet, but he says, “I miss it. Playing.”

“Playing hurt you, though. Now you’re all safe!”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Isn’t this more fun?” she asked, holding up her Prince Naveen and Clarice the Reindeer toys in her hands.

“I a—was a footballer for many, many years, Phoebe. Several times the amount of time you’ve even been alive for.” He makes a fist and rubs at his eyes. “It’s really important to me, and now I can’t play anymore.” 

Phoebe nods. “And they can’t just make your leg new again?”

“They can’t make me young enough to play again.” Another tear rolls down his face.

Phoebe puts her toys aside. She wriggles one arm between his back and the headboard, and one around his front. She can’t reach across the full width of him. He uses his free arm to clutch her elbow.

“The best part was when you were there in the crowd, cheering me on,” he says, eventually.

“ _My_ favorite part was when you lifted me way up off the floor, and everybody in the whole wide crowd was—“ she attempts to mimic the sound of fans cheering, instead sounding more like a faulty engine.

He smiles. “Yeah, ‘course it is. Makes you feel special, right?”

“Yes,” she says. 

He shifts himself to grab her from both sides, pick her up, and hold her over the floor. Phoebe screams with excitement. His muscles note that she is far more difficult to lift up than she once was. 

He does different voices, pretending to be spectators in an imaginary crowd. “Phoebe, will you give me your autograph?” She is delighted.

He puts her down and she scrambles back up onto the bed. She lays down perpendicular to him, her back against the duvet. Letting out the last of her giggles, she hooks her knees over his thigh. 

Some straggling tears escape, and he wipes his eyes.

### Ted

When he exits immigration, a blur of a small human whizzes towards him and nearly knocks him over. He puts one foot behind him to keep himself upright, and he hugs his son.

When they part, he sees that Henry is sporting a Richmond jersey. 

There is now a stream of people in between _them and her._

Michelle waits for them to finish having their moment. She does not rush out and over to him as Henry did.

Henry bounces up and down some dozen times. He reaches down and takes Henry’s hand. They walk over to her.

“Hey, Michelle,” he says.

“Hi, Ted.”

They wait for his hold luggage. Henry tells him, in great detail, about the latest price changes at the local grocery store. He looks over at Michelle to find out why their child is obsessed with per-the-pound supermarket figures. She shrugs.

The conveyor belt gifts him his suitcases. Henry demands control over one of them, but soon tires out and hands it back.

She offers, again, to drive to where he is staying, and he insists, again, that he will do the taxi thing. 

“Major League money,” she says, friendly and teasing, and it stings for some reason.

She sends them off. Henry tells her to remember her daily vitamins. She bends down and returns the sentiment in the form of the tightest squeeze. He is so grateful that their son is so loved. 

The door to the place he is staying at is finicky. It takes three tries to get it open.

He wheels his suitcase in and bends down to kiss the top of Henry’s head. “Love you, buckaroo.”

“I love you, DaaaAaAAaAaaad!” Henry takes off, running circles around the unglazed wooden table in the middle of the room, voice oscillating with every step. The energy and excitement are that of a kid let loose in a hotel.

He falls asleep on the couch and is awoken by a violent tug on his arm. Henry ushers him off to bed and asks where the toothpaste is. 

The following week, he drops Henry over at a friend's place for a play date.

He visits the house for the first time since the divorce. His things are waiting for him, in a closet in the basement where they used to use to stash unwanted linens. 

He insists on doing it all himself, and dashes up and down the stairs, filling up the rental car with his old stuff. She is annoyed. 

He tries to find activities that are interesting yet normal. Henry is a little guy with simple needs. He wants to spoil him but not overdo it. It would be a devastation, to wake up and realize that he has become the dad who is never physically around, comes bearing an abundance of shiny new things, then leaves.

They watch too much _Family Matters_ and _Gabby Duran & the Unsittables_.

He ruffles Henry’s hair and makes the most of this time together, for he knows what time apart feels like.

### Rebecca

The effects time has on child has never been more stark.

She is babysitting. Not that that is the term she would use out loud—Nora is _so_ far away from being a baby. 

She has to re-learn her goddaughter as a person, but her mind is stubborn. It firmly grasps onto the image of a little girl.

Nora is whip-smart and talks fast and does not care about dinosaurs. 

She feels feel out-of-touch, having to inquire about basic details. She does not know Nora’s favorite color or school name or 12th birthday party location.

She, not Nora, suggests that they watch _Frozen 2_. Neither of them have seen it before. She does not know if Nora actually wants to see it or is just exercising politeness.

She remembers how Nora used to take claim to her, butting up against her side, leaving no room for personal space. She can feel the ghost of being inadvertently elbowed in the ribs.

Nora sits on an armchair facing the TV. She sits on the couch. 

Elsa’s hair is loose. Nora used to try to plait her then-longer hair. It usually ended up as more of a bird's nest than a plait. 

She tries out different conversation topics during the film's quieter moments. When something finally seems seems to lands, a musical number starts up. She cannot hear Nora's response over the surround sound.

The ice queen is mourned, is found, and gives up the crown. 

They both agree that the film is good. Better than the first one, perhaps.


End file.
